


Life (with a New Kid on the Boat)

by pyalgroundblz (acidtonguejenny)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/pyalgroundblz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things they don't tell you when your boyfriend acquires a Padawan learner: say goodbye to your sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life (with a New Kid on the Boat)

“Yeah yeah, go play. Don’t get into any trouble.” Zeb said, throwing Ezra out of the airlock. Sabine followed sedately, humming, Chopper rolling behind her and bumbling down the ramp. 

“I’ll com when Ezra gets arrested.” Sabine said cheerily over the servos, as the ramp retracted.

“Let him sweat a little first!” Zeb called back before the airlock closed with a hiss. 

“Ahem.”

Zeb turned.

Hera tapped her foot on the deck, her arms crossed and one hip cocked out. Zeb treated himself to a slow, leering once-over before replying, innocently, “What? Do the kid some good, I say.”

“For some reason I think the inside of a cell is a vista he’s used to.” Hera said dryly. 

“Hn.” Zeb said. He refused to dwell on the likely truth there. “Where is he?”

“In his bunk. Meditating.” Hera rolled her eyes.

Zeb groaned. “Man doesn’t know an opportunity when it’s hanging over his head. Allow me to, heh, enlighten him.”

“As long as I get to watch.”

Zeb reached out and swept her against him. “Love, if watching is all you do, I will be sorely disappointed.” 

Hera smiled, slow and big so her eyes crinkled. She stretched in his hold, her chest pressing against his. “You don’t need to worry about that.” She promised, with a tug on his beard.

Zeb released her with a smirk, stepping aside to allow her to pass in the narrow corridor. He lingered, watching the sway of her hips, and whistled.

Who knew acquiring a kid would put such a chink in their style? Sabine was a good girl. She could be depended on to settle somewhere quietly with an e-book or experimental explosives for a few hours while they, well.

Most of Kanan’s free time now was invested in Ezra’s training, and Zeb didn’t question it. It seemed critical that the Jedi Order survive, in whatever way it may, and from what he knew of Jedi Masters and their apprentices, it was almost a trend that the training be fatally interrupted--and their situation was much more precarious than a Jedi Temple. It seemed inevitable that they be arrested, or separated, or killed, sooner rather than later. 

Zeb had a sick gut-feeling that Kanan wouldn’t live long enough, and Kanan himself looked to suspect the same. He conducted his sessions with Ezra as if it was imperative that the kid receive as much training at as quick a pace as could be managed.

Kanan was as stressed as Zeb had ever seen him, meditating more, eating less frequently, sleeping lighter...

No, Zeb didn’t pout like a firstborn about the redistribution of Kanan’s time and energy, nor did he resent Ezra for it. If there was anything he held against the kid, it was having to share his damned bunk. Trying to get a load off was a nightmare, with the way the kid would coming crashing in at the drop of a hat…

He’d just settled into a leisurely wank. Lots of wrist movement, with a fruit-based lube that smelled like Hera’s perfume aiding proceedings. He’d flipped through his mental catalogue—films he’d seen, women he’d been with, stories he’d heard—and settled on a memory of Hera and Kanan twisted up like snakes, moving at an agonizingly slow pace, the kind that Zeb couldn’t bear unless he was tied down. 

Hera’s hands on Kanan’s ass, nails digging in, while Kanan mouthed her throat with abandon...It really was a lovely picture, that.

The whoosh of the doors opening--“Hey, furface--whoah!”--and the closing again.

Zeb laughed so hard he barely heard Sabine’s curious question, and Ezra’s high-pitched “Nothing!”

And his Force-sensitivity! Not something Zeb had considered, the awareness having a thumb on the pulse of life would bring. Until…

“Hera.”

Hera blinked dazedly, slumped in her seat. Zeb didn’t bother to look up from what he was fixated on—that is, Hera’s sweet, sweet nether regions. He lapped at her, coating his tongue with her fluids.

Hera cursed, slapping vaguely in the direction of the comm switch. “What is it, Kanan?”

“Tell Zeb to stop whatever it is he’s doing.”

Zeb surfaced to give the console a rude look, thumbing Hera’s clit. 

Hera, for her part, looked equally annoyed. “Why?” She said, many things in the vein of _sod off_ in her tone.

“You’re distracting my pupil.”

“Wha—“ Hera released the switch. “—oh.” She swore again, at greater length. 

“Care to share?” Zeb said, not getting it. 

“Ezra can feel it.” She said, and hit the switch again. “Five more minutes?”

“What the bloody hell do you mean _he can feel it_?” Zeb barked, hearing his voice echo through the open channel.

“No, Hera.” Kanan said.

“But I haven’t—“

“Hey, that’s not even a little bit fair—“

“Please stop talking!” Ezra yelled desperately in the background. “As a matter of fact, please stop everything!”

“You get back to your exercises—“

“Kanan.” Hera said warningly, not one to play when it came to her orgasms.

More quietly, Kanan said. “I’m sorry, both of you. Wrap it up as fast as you can so the kid doesn’t die of embarrassment.” 

Zeb grumbled. “If I don’t kill him first—“

Hera shoved his face into her crotch. “We’ve got our orders. Make it snappy.”

Zeb kind of figured when the kid’s Force-sensitivity was revealed that Kanan’s lovely Jedi tricks were going to be shelved for a little while, but no, damn _everything_ pinged poor Ezra’s radar. Maybe it was because he was a horny teenager, but if Zeb so much as lingered on a frisky thought in his proximity Ezra cringed.

This he discovered while babysitting the getaway vehicle, eyes watching Kanan and Sabine approach via rooftop. The man’s legs had to be illegal on at least eight planets.

Ezra shuddered in the navigator’s seat, gaging. 

Zeb, having added thoughts of Hera’s taste and her squirming and her sounds in with the medley of Kanan’s legs around his waist, figured what it must be pretty quickly. The recent incident on the bridge was fresh in his mind, after all. 

With a dirty chortle, he recalled one particularly sweaty night (or had it been day, at that point?) as vividly as he could before clearing his mind, ignoring the throb of answering arousal in himself. 

“Can’t help it kid, I’m alive.” Zeb smacked him companionably on the shoulder. 

“I wish you could help it, I really do.” Ezra said, looking vaguely green and now, Zeb wasn’t sure it called for all _that_. He’d give the kid a pass for not thinking much of his furry butt, but you’d have to be dead to not acknowledge Hera and Kanan as the attractive beings they are.

“It’s like my parents getting it on.” Ezra said with a shiver.

Zeb cackled.

For weeks, bordering on months now, every encounter between any of them had been snatched wherever possible—which wasn’t often. They were a busy lot, as it turned out. Between keeping the Ghost flying, Ezra’s training, jobs, plans, buyers, informants, the Empire, etcetera, ad nausuem, it was a miracle a quickie against the bulkhead was managed every now and then.

But this was something else. This was solid gold. The ship to themselves. For _hours_. Zeb didn’t intend to waste a moment of this time, and Hera was right there with him. Kanan didn’t stand a chance. 

The man liked to pretend he was a monk. Zeb had been there, done that, thank you, and knew very well what the difference between a monk and a Jedi was.

It was as Hera said. Kanan was seated, cross-legged, in the middle of his cabin, hands fallen into the crevasse of his legs. His eyes were closed

“Are you all calm and centered yet?” Zeb asked. 

Kanan didn’t move, except for a twitch of a smile.

“I know I said I would just watch, but…” Hera circled around and hooked a finger in Kanan’s hair tie, drawing it down until it fell to the floor. “Oops.”

“Heh. I like that.” Zeb said. He knelt in front of Kanan. “I don’t know where to start, if I'm honest. What are the chances it’s been too long, and I forgot how?”

“Either way, what happens next will be fun. Right?” This Hera breathed into Kanan’s ear, having seated herself close at his back.

“I could just unzip and let the chips fall where they may, you know?”

“You certainly could,” Hera said sagely. One of her hands appeared high on Kanan’s thigh, moving up to curve around his hipbone. Another picked at his shoulder armor, undoing clasps.

Kanan peeked.

Zeb fingered the closure on his suit as if considering. He grinned upon catching Kanan’s eye, and grabbed his chin with a careful, clawed hand. Kanan opened his eyes, dropping the pretense of continuing to meditate and allowing a certain tension to flow from his body. Odd, that, meditation being about inner peace and all that tripe. 

“Hey, partner.” Zeb said. It came out a little thick, a little more seriously than he meant. “Feels like it’s been awhile.” 

Kanan smiled wryly. Hera was dropping little kisses up his neck, along the side of his face. He laid a hand along her cheek. “It does, a little.”

“It’s okay, that’s okay,” Hera said softly, hugging his torso to her. “As long as we get this every once in a while.”

Zeb kissed him, hands above Kanan’s knees and pulling his legs out of position so he could get that much closer. Hera’s fingers moved in the short fur on the back of Zeb’s skull, those of her other hand in Kanan’s hair as she held them in a intimate circle, pressing more kisses to Zeb’s and Kanan’s cheek alternatively, and the edge of their mouths. 

What was between them hadn’t been overly discussed. They’d been brought together by adrenaline and a common hate for the Empire. Zeb believed there was natural capability there too, but no one could deny that fighting and saving each other’s lives wasn’t a hell of an aphrodisiac. They’d been through a lot together in the years they’d known each other.

The physical aspect of their arrangement was nothing to sneeze at, but Zeb would be hurt to hear any claim that that was all there was to it. 

There were bonds people made, in the dark of space, in the shadow of the Empire.

***

Three adults on one bunk just doesn’t happen, especially when one party was over two meters tall.

Kanan was moving inside Hera, his dick shining with her fluids on every outward thrust, his hands on her hips, thumbs pointed up. Zeb was quickly putting a crick in his neck trying to twist it to watch the little rim of lighter green skin that appeared every time Kanan pulled out. It was trying to keep his tongue on her clit that did it, but it was worth it. Going by the squeezing hand on the back of his head, it was also appreciated. 

Zeb had a handful of Jedi balls and a mouthful of sweet pussy, and he was a happy, happy Lasat. 

He lapped at her with the flat of his tongue in long, repetitive strokes, fluttered until she swatted him with a laughing groan and thumbed her while he traced around her stretched entrance, swiping at Kanan’s thrusting dick. 

“Tastes like happy Twi’lek,” He said with a pleased rumble.

“Stop screwing around down there,” Kanan said, breathing heavily. 

“No no no, don’t stop, please screw around,” Hera moaned, hand pushing. 

Zeb chortled. He ran his hands up her sides, palms bumbling over Kanan’s fingers, and gave her a last sucking kiss before taking a moment to appreciate the view. She was swollen, folds wet and a darker green than most of her, clit erect and standing out as if indignant at the loss of attention. Fluid and saliva wet the inside of her thighs. Kanan’s tan skin went rather fetchingly with her apple green, he thought.

“Sorry love, stage two coming up.”

Hera grumbled. “Well, alright.” 

“What’s stage two?” Kanan asked, pausing as Hera turned in his arms, putting her back to the bulkhead. She took him by the hips and pulled him flush to her front, voice hitching as he slid in again.

She grinned wolfishly. “You’ll see.”

Zeb shifted onto his other knee, waiting patiently for Hera to take two handfuls of Kanan’s ass and spread him, fingers digging in deeply enough to potentially bruise. Zeb approved. He went in.

“O-oh!” Kanan said with a yelp. “Stage two. Think I got it.”

“Stage two is when I fuck you stupid, magic boy.” Zeb said between probing licks, grinning so widely he had to stop to put his tongue properly to work. Hera’s taste lingered in his throat, around his mouth, and he smelled her as he set about opening Kanan with enthusiasm. 

Kanan groaned, knees trembling, his rhythm utterly lost. “Okay. You go ahead with that.”

Hera laughed, and grunted as Kanan went particularly deep. A few moments later she took a deep, shuddering breath and gave a weak moan, pelvis twitching helplessly as she came, fluid running down her legs. 

Zeb went to town, knowing it’d take a bit of work to allow Kanan to take him easily after so long. Kanan, meanwhile, had mostly stopped moving, and had a hand around himself in a desperate attempt to stave off orgasm. Hera pet herself lazily, running the fingers of her free hand up Kanan’s nape to draw his head down and engage him in a slow, wet kiss...The sounds of which, drifting down, encouraged Zeb to pick up the pace.

When his jaw started to get tired and Kanan was breathing raggedly in time with every stroke of tongue, he pulled away.

“Think my job’s done here,” he said, smacking his lips.

“What?” Kanan said dizzily. “Already?”

“No dear,” Hera pat his cheek patiently. “Part A.”

“Stage two, part A.” Kanan said, tone confused, clearly in the process of short-circuiting. 

“Yep.”

Zeb dug through the pile of thrown clothing, surfacing with a tube. “Gotcha! Hand.”

Hera obligingly held her hand out to accept a generous dollop of lubricant. Kanan mumbled mid-coitus nonsense into the crook of her neck, one of his hands massaging her lekku. Hera hummed, pleased. One-handed, she spread the lube over her palm and fingers, and pressed two into Kanan, who widened his stance slightly.

This part was usually left to her or Kanan, the all around agreement being that there were some places claws weren’t welcomed, so Zeb watched avidly as each knuckle disappeared into Kanan’s body. Hera spread her fingers, swirled them about, crooking them a few times so Kanan jumped as a spark went through him, then she added another. 

“All done,” She announced at length, hand retreating upwards to curl around Kanan’s side. Lube on her fingers left shining marks on his back. 

Zeb leapt up excitedly, hand on his slicked dick. “Alright partner, hold on.”

Kanan turned his face to look over his shoulder, pupils large and dark, hands braced against the wall to support himself. “I read you, buddy.”

With a soft, deep-chested chortle, Zeb guided himself in.

Kanan’s breath whooshed out of him as Zeb pressed forward in rolling increments. He ducked his head to mouth Hera’s naked shoulder mindlessly, one hand palming her breast. Zeb struck up a brisk pace, short, hard strokes that rocked Kanan forward, every so often throwing a hip twist into the mix that caused Kanan to gasp. 

When Kanan came, still in Hera, it was with her holding him inside and with Zeb buried as deeply as he could manage, chest pressed flat to Kanan’s back and an arm around his middle to hold him up. 

“That’s it, baby,” Hera hissed, hips rolling. “That’s it.”

Kanan panted wetly against her neck, shivering with aftershocks. Zeb was left with an armful of post-coital, noodle-limbed lovers. Not a bad thing. 

“I’m gonna change things up here, guys.”

“Huh?” 

“Great." Hera said. "Take this from me, it’s getting heavy.”

Zeb accepted the bundle of fucked out Jedi Knight that Hera passed into his arms, flipped him around, and hoisted him up. “You know what do, Kanan.”

Kanan huffed a laugh, hooking his legs around Zeb’s waist, thighs pressed tight to his sides. He wrapped his arms around Zeb’s neck and said gustily into his ear, “Yeah I do, you’ve made sure of that.”

“Damn straight.” Zeb said, smug.

Hera scooted a few inches over and collapsed on her bunk with a happy ‘oof’, fiddling with the point of one lekku. “Do it slow, Zeb.” She suggested.

“Slow?” He said, arms bulging as he held Kanan, building his rhythm back up. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Hera snorted. Kanan groaned, but that might have just been the sex. 

By the time Zeb climaxed, inhaling sharply through his nose, Kanan was hanging from him like a doll, and Hera was blinking sleepily at them from the bunk. Zeb dumped Kanan against her side, ignoring his own weak knees, and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. 

He slapped Kanan's thigh. "Good show, everyone."

"I'll say," said Hera, dreamy.

Kanan made a vague noise of agreement, waving a hand.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, basking in the first afterglow any had managed to enjoy for weeks...

Kanan's communicator beeped beneath a heap of abandoned pants. 

"Specter 5 to Spector 1, come in."

Kanan and Zeb groaned in unison. Hera heaved a sigh.

"You wanted kids," She said to Kanan.

"If I say I've seen the error of my ways, can we send them back?"

"Spector 5 to Spector 1. Or Spector 2. Come in." said the communicator. 

"You'd only really need to get rid of the one," Zeb said thoughtfully. 

"I'll take Spector 4 in a pinch."

"Zeb, the lady's calling for you." Kanan said, nudging him.

"It's your pants." Zeb said. "It's your communicator."

"It's your Padawan in trouble," Hera pointed out, muffled, speaking into her pillow.

"Spector 5 to Spector Someone, come in. Stuff's going down out here, I need someone to bring me my paints. Or some cherry bombs, I can work with either."

**Author's Note:**

> I CANNOT BE ALONE IN THIS BOAT, RIGHT?


End file.
